Tick Tock Wafting Clock
by monsic-buffoon
Summary: It's the story of a magnificent flourish! Of the fall before the climb! Of tears and laughter! The heartbreaking journey of a young, alarmingly handsome, water tribesman -Well. It's a Varrick story. Buckle up kids, it's a long ride, and even he's not sure what happened for most of it.


It was a minuscule miscalculation on his part. A minuscule miscalculation whose result had him standing out in the freezing twilight air, instead of lounging by the bonfire in their cramped little living establishment. Iknik kept his back to the school- the little round hut they called school anyway. Instead, he stood against the horizon, staring down the sun as it crawled away behind the never ending hills of snow.

It had been written in the stars. The cruelest of destinies. A backhanded slap in the face by fate. As always, after weeks away, his father's return home had been impeccably timed.

He didn't need to eavesdrop to know what was going down in there. What was to come. Cheerful, his future was not. Some hesitation would almost be appreciated if it weren't for the fact that his skin was crawling in on itself in its desperate attempt to generate more warmth.

One little miscalculation. One little sound. "Never test the prototype in public," he reminded himself, then rolled his eyes. Frankly, there were more interesting things he could be spending his time on.

He could picture them now, inside the hut, cramped together, conspiring about how generally awful he was as a tribesman. _Iknik Blackstone, the menace, the thief, causing destruction and disorder no matter where he was._

A particularly threatening gust of wind whirled past him, picking up the mound of curls around his ears and brushing it in an even swoop over his forehead. At least inside the hut it'd be warm. Cozy for two, let alone the nine people that inhabited it on a day to day basis. The central city had a real school house. He'd walked past it once while visiting, Torna had pointed it out to him, and he remembered scoffing in the moment. There wasn't a person on the continent that could teach him something he didn't already known, and the size of the building that delivered it hardly mattered. In retrospect, he began to wonder if a bigger building would have a lobby he could wait in whenever his teacher got the overwhelming urge to discuss important matters with his guardian.

The snow reflected orange against the melting sun. Iknik narrowed his eyes. It was a misleadingly hot color. The sharp edges of travel worn winds pricked at his cheeks turning them a darker shade.

"Iknik."

_The penguin seal goes Bwak Bwak. The polar bear dog goes gauf gauf. The disappointed father goes…._

"Pops!" he turned on his heels, smiling broadly, "How'd the meeting go?"

His father's face was grim, but that was to be expected. In fact, the entire scale of his father's facial expression ranged from hesitantly nonplused to downright pessimistic. Kessuk Blackstone had been trained by generations of emotionally incompetent people. Emotions only interfered with the hunt, as did passions, academics, and other such frivolities. Suffice it to say, Iknik Blackstone was the sore thumb.

"You're a smart boy?"

Did he need convincing-

"I'm sure you can figure it out."

Iknik's goofy smile twisted into a contemplative pinch of lips, "I'm guessing she wasn't impressed with the bone remover-"

"She said you smacked her in the face with a fish."

"To be fair, I never intended to smack her with it- Not this time anyway- There was a little blip in the blueprints, but don't worry, I've been thinking about the new model all day. This one won't be flinging any fish carcasses, you have my word!"

"This isn't about-" Kessuk growled a noise of frustration, "Her entire coat was covered in blood!"

"That old smock? You mean she actually cared?"

The strong furrow in his father's brow slumped, and it caused for an uncomfortable tingling to scrape down the back of Iknik's neck. This wasn't the arm flailing screaming match he'd been anticipating. Apparently his father had been experimenting with a new war tactic. Guilting. It was spilling out at them in a slow progression, as his father's face shifted into something entirely new.

"You're turning seventeen soon," his father announced as if it were some dreaded prophecy that had snuck up on him.

"Another year, another inch." An inch of height? An inch in the direction of the shore? The answer was supposedly a mystery.

"That's of age, son. You'll be taking on your duties as a man of the Southern Water tribe."

"So goes the tradition-"

"Iknik." He knew already. He knew everything. "Your teacher says you've been skipping out on your training sessions."

How in the world had the old hag figured it out? She wasn't even in charge of that sect of learning. Ikink's eyebrow twitched, "Yeah well, she also called it Sozai's comet, so you really shouldn't trust all of her claims."

"Son."

"I mean it," he lied plainly. Somehow it was easier to bend around the truth than admit certain facts to his father. "That woman has no idea what she's talking about."

For a moment it seemed Kessuk would pursue the topic further. It was far from his smoothest line, and so the truth simmered on the surface. The man was clearly struggling with that faux calm again. When he spoke his voice was grudgingly patient. "I was planning to take Tanik on a hunt sometime soon. He's getting to that age, it's time for him to experience life outside of the commune."

Registering the ever obvious fact that his father had barely returned home, and was already planning to leave again, Iknik switch gears and concentrated on the present. Every statement had a purpose, and judging by his current circumstances his prospects were only so-so. Iknik stood, narrowing his eyes suspiciously, "Couldn't agree more, little rascal needs to stretch his legs. It'll be good for him."

"I want you to come with us."

Hook, line, and sinker. "Do you."

It was tradition amongst the tribe for the father to take his sons hunting. Some training was offered to the boys throughout their adolescence, but it was mostly the father's duty to teach his son the ins and outs of the world. And their world revolved around a hunt.

Kessuk had managed to coax his eldest along with him a few times in his late childhood, yet with each attempt Iknik began to understand more thoroughly how terribly miserable and pointless it was out there in the cold, hunting elusive game. Winters were only bringing the worst, and it seemed the animals were smarter than them, leaving while they still could. Not having been particularly interested in the act to begin with, he began rejecting his father's invitations as they came.

In heated moments, Kessuk never hesitated to challenge the topic, pointing out that boys Ikinik's age had normally been on dozens of hunts, that his boy was expected to participate in the ongoings of the tribe as much as any other. It was, quite frankly, infuriating, and so Iknik turned without another word. His face was numb from staying out in the cold that long. He ignored his father as he sped after him, calling his name.

"You're coming hunting with us!" he shouted vainly over a new storm of wind, "And you will train with the others! You're a man, Iknik, and it's due time you start acting like one!"

That'd be enough family bonding for one hour. One jolly welcome home surprise party.

…..

In the off-center corners of the Southern Water Tribe, a small bundle of huts was situated between two large hills of snow. Within one particular hut, a family much too big for its location, cluttered around a table.

At the head sat the father. He was rather large in stature, as most tribesmen were, with hair that grew out just past his neck. His features were strong and heavy on his face, though they seemed to brighten some ways as he watched his wife while she fruitlessly wrestled with their youngest child for the soup ladle.

She was a quaint woman, with smooth curves that roamed up and down her body. They were made thicker by the heavy padding of her winter wear. The slowly draining years were treating her nicely, lining her face with a few thin crinkles, and salvaging her hair, keeping it as dark and black as it had been in her youth.

The young boy at her side, the one who waved the spoon wildly above his head, was the smallest at the table. His hair was black as well, and his smile toothy. He was no more than five years old and the cold climate suited him. His baby fat rounded him out keeping him warm even in the harshest of winters.

A second boy sat down the line. He was older, 12, soon to be joining the older children in their final classes at school. More importantly, he would be joining the other boys afterward for practice. He would train his physical abilities, in case a war ever broke out. Physically, the boy was blooming towards his prime. He was squared like his father, broad and fit for a fight. His eyes were bright and excited for all that was in store for him.

Alas, the table curbed once more, with a third boy tipping off the balance. This boy was the eldest of the young, in fact the term 'boy' was questionable in reference to him. He was tall and limber, with long sharp features that differed from the others around him. His hair was a lighter shade, more brown than black, and his eyes slightly grayer in their blue. His smile, though present, was sharp. He was a remnant of a distant memory, a reminder for his father of a different time. A reminder of mistakes.

…..

Inevitably, tensions began to fly again before dinner could really even start. Yuna, Tanick, and Taha all stared in a unified horror as father and son tore into each other's throats harder than they ever had before. Their shouting grew to such volumes that a neighboring pet joined in with his hoarse bark. Kessuk cut the evening short summoning them all to bed, wasting the heat of a perfectly fine sea prune stew.

There wasn't much room to run away in their home. It consisted of two rooms, the bedroom, split in thirds by his father, Yuna, and Taha, and the main room. He and Tanick, as the two eldest sons, had drawn the short stick to sleep in the cold, on their thin summer-straw mattresses, rather than the warm bed in the other room. The soreness that he carried deep in his muscles, only pandered to the other excuses he had for brooding.

Iknik stared at the ceiling in a petty silence.

He only really knew two levels of sleep; the prefered deep and prosperous kind, and the ever bothersome, elusive one. More often than not, it was his ideas of productivity keeping him awake. This night his mind was filled with the concept of freedom.

The dark swarmed in patterns above him. Or perhaps that was the smoke of the dying bonfire. Iknik huffed in frustration then jerkily flipped onto his side, directing his furious glare at the wall beside him.

He'd said things he shouldn't have, or yelled them was a more accurate term. He'd lost control in a way that he strived to never do. Now, a pesky little voice began to batter at his mind, tugging him in an everlasting back and forth.

"Niki?"

The sudden interruption caught him off guard. He perked up, and immediately flopped to his back again.

"Niki?"

"'m trying to sleep here, kid," he said, making his voice sound as groggy as possible.

"No you're not," the kid accused.

"I _am_."

"If you were you'd be out by now, and the polar whales would be joining in on your song."

"Just what are you implying?" Iknik gasped indignantly.

"That you've got some serious rocks stuck up your nose," Tanick explained, unnecessarily.

"Well you know what, _Tani_, I can hear your gas through the walls, so can it with the inflamed sense of righteousness."

There was another long pulse of silence, but Iknik knew they weren't finished. His brother's words were generally short, but his thoughts were long winded. An interesting contrast to his own lengthy patterns of thought that tripped out of him without a filter. The kid laying a mattress away had his heart in the right place. Unfortunately, Iknik wasn't in the chattiest of moods that evening. He maintained the silence, closing his eyes, with a vain hope that maybe Tanick would get the point.

"Niki?"

No such luck…

"Nik-"

"Spirits, kid, what is it, what do you want?" he barked with a sharpness that, that goodnatured attitude plainly didn't deserve.

"Was Dad mad about what happened in class?"

It was much harder to get away with things now that the bugger was a part of the nine scrunched in his school hut. Iknik flipped to his stomach, then stretched his legs out as far as the space would allow. His feet poked out from under a patched blanket.

"That?" he scoffed, "He's used to these things by now."

"Then what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Tani," he promised though dinner had been an indication of the exact opposite.

Another pause whittled away before Tanik spoke again. His voice was quieter, more resolute. "No one calls me Tani anymore."

"And you're the only one who's ever called me Niki."

There was a chance that he'd won. That the kid felt battered enough, but of course he fumbled back in for more

"Hey," his voice was laced with a new kind of flatness.

Iknik hummed into the dark walls of the hut, closing his eyes again, and preparing to fake snore if it got him out of answering more questions he didn't feel like talking about.

"You're not gonna… go anywhere are you?"

Hesitantly, one of his eyes peeked open, "What's this?"

"I mean-" Tanick sounded abashed. Iknik imagined he was screwing up his face the way he always did when he worried about breakfast or lunch or something of that nature. "You're not gonna leave us, right?"

Some inexplicably constricting claw rapped around his windpipe, cutting off his response.

"Niki?"

"No," he finally managed after a moment, "I'm not going anywhere."


End file.
